


They Like To Watch Us Bleed

by SpacePirateKat



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt, F/M, M/M, Sass, battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14554821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpacePirateKat/pseuds/SpacePirateKat
Summary: A Battery City orphan is led to a life of freedom.





	1. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm new to AO3 and I'm still figuring out how to space my paragraphs in this format. Bear with me.

She was just a kid living on the streets of Battery City when they found her.

  
The child was rummaging through a garbage bin, looking for some form of a meal. She saw a car approach and ducked into the shadows of a nearby alley.

The BL/ind standard vehicle stopped in front of the alley and two S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/s climbed out of the backseat. It was a standard procedure. A few Crows would grab an orphan off of the street and take them to the Draculoid center, where they were kept until they turned sixteen, then made into Dracs.

She had seen them drag children kicking and screaming into that building, and she was not about to let them take her. She backed further into the shadows, but her escape was cut short when she stepped on a stray cat's tail, sending the creature yowling and spitting away.

The Dracs spotted her and she silently cursed herself and tried to flee. They caught her easily. She kicked and fought, but she never made a noise. She was a proud child and didn't want to give them the satisfaction.

They pushed her into the back of the car, with one Drac on each side of her. Two more occupied the front.

Even after the door was closed, she kept hitting and kicking the Crow on her right. finally, the Crow on her left intervened, grabbing her hands and forcing her hold still.

"Hey, save the theatrics for when we get to the Drac center," left-Crow said, holding my hands in one of his. The fabric of his glove dug into my wrists. "We aren't going to hurt you."

She glared at him while aiming a kick at right-Crow.

"Cut it out," left-Crow snapped as right-Crow growled in annoyance. "We're not BLI, kid. Calm down." He reached up with his free hand and pulled off his mask. She saw the scorpion tattoo on his neck and froze.

"You're a rebel," she said. "A Killjoy."

Left-Crow grinned. He couldn't have been older than fourteen. "Got me. Don't get too calm, though, we'll see how good your acting is when we get to the gate. We're going to free the kids."

"That's impossible."

"I wouldn't be so sure. Come with us- if this bust is a success, become a Killjoy."

"And if it fails?"

"Then we all become Draculoids and we don't have to worry about anything anymore."

She stared at him, nearly struck silent from his laid back demeanor. "Who are you?"

"I'm Fun Ghoul." He began to point out the other not-Crows in the car, beginning with right-Crow. "That's Jet Star, passenger's Kobra Kid, and the driver is Party Poison."

"I'm-" she began, but he stopped her.

"No real names, we'll get you a name when we get back to the radio station."

"Put your mask on, Ghoul," Party Poison says. "We're almost there."

"Do us a favor," Ghoul said as he pulled down his mask. "Act like a scared little kid."

The car rolled to a stop at the gate of the Draculoid Center. The guard waved us in without even checking their IDs.

"Idiot," Jet Star scoffed softly as Party Poison pulled the car forward.

"They don't expect us to pull something as ballsy as this," Party Poison said.

"Because it's crazy," she said.

He parked and turned in his seat to regard me through the black and white nylon mask. "It is crazy," he conceeded. "But it's artfully crazy."

They climbed out of the car, Fun Ghoul dragging her along with him. She played her part well, stumbling and pleading and carrying on. He shushed her once they were inside. They walked to the end of the hall and entered a door.

She almost screamed at what she saw inside. The room was wall-to-wall beds. On each was a child or teenager- still too young to be made into a Draculoid. The children were all hooked up to small machines beside each table. They were all asleep.

"Well, didn't you just take your sweet time?" asked a voice across the room. The voice came from a young man- older than Fun Ghoul, but still young- leaned back in a chair in the corner.

"Cola," Party Poison acknowledged.

Cola nodded. "Poison. Any trouble getting in?"

"Nah." Poison gestured to their abductee. "We picked her up and they let us right in. What about you, where's the rest of your squad?"

"They're searching the rest of the building. They'll be back soon." Cola suddenly tsked. "Poison," he reprimanded with a wave of his hand. "Still using that old sparker?"

Poison's hand went to the ray gun hanging at his hip. "If it works, what does it matter that it's a first-gen?"

"Lay off, kids," a booming voice said, startling them all. A man strode in, much older than the rest of the group. He glanced around the room and his eyes fell on the orphan. She shrank behind Fun Ghoul as the new man approached. His clothes were so dark, he looked like he belonged with BLI. The stark white of the walls around him only made the darkness more intense. He crouched in front of the orphan and she made herself smaller. Slowly, he unholstered one of the twin guns at his hips and held it between them.  
"Look alive, sunshine." The booming voice was softer. Kinder than she had first thought. He spun the gun in his hand and held it out to her. "You might need this."  
She took it. It was heavier that she had expected. The body of the gun was black with a bolt of rainbow shooting down the barrel.  
"I'm Doctor Death Defying." He extended his hand. "Call me D."

She tucked the gun into the back of her belt and shook his hand. "Fun Ghoul told me no real names, I don't have one to give you yet."

He smiled. "Let me know, kiddo." He stood. "Pony should be coming soon," he told Poison.

"Alright, let's start rounding the kids up," Poison replied.

The group spread across the room. The orphan followed Fun Ghoul to the side of a small sleeping girl. Fun Ghoul disconnected the machine from her, pulling tubes out of her arms and monitors off of her fingers. "We don't have time to wait for her to wake up. Can you carry her?" Seeing the look on the orphan's face, he reconsidered. "You know what, go find someone smaller."

The orphan nodded and went to a nearby bed where a much younger, smaller child slept. She followed Fun Ghoul's example and disconnected the child. When he was free of the machine, she picked him up and walked with Fun Ghoul out of the room. They made their way to a garage full of BLI vans. He swiped a black and white card and a revolving key tree produced a key set. Fun Ghoul clicked the button and a van beeped in response.

"There's our ride," he said, setting off across the garage. He opened the side door and propped the child he carried inside, then relieved the orphan of her child. They began to make rounds, carrying back children and loading them into the vans. When they were full, they rolled out quietly.

The orphan rode in Fun Ghoul and Poison's van, keeping an eye on the sleeping children. Once they made it out of the city, Poison spoke.

"How're you doing back there?" he asked her.

"Nobody's awake yet," she responded. "But as far as I know none of them are dead, so that's a plus."

He chuckled. "I like this kid, Ghoul." He pulled off his mask and shook out his vibrant red hair. It kept falling in his face, causing him to toss his head. The motion did nothing, as the offending hair fell back into his eyes. They drove for another hour through the desert, finally approaching a run down gas station.

"First ones home," Ghoul commented.

"Yeah," Poison said. "They'll be along soon."

Kobra and Jet returned next, and they were left waiting for Cola and D. Inside the gas station turned radion station, the five were crowded around a radio, listening to their updates. They listened as the pair encountered exterminators. Before the initial warning had even concluded, the Killjoys were already loading up a car for a rescue, leaving the orphan with two vanfuls of slowly waking children.


	2. Recruits From The Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years later, the Killjoy gets some leader action.

    The exterminator clap cost the lives of five children and D's ability to walk. Confined to a wheelchair, he threw himself into reporting on the zones. Nothing is going to shut that slaughtermatic mouth up for a long time.

    The orphan became a Killjoy. For a few years, she took the name Desert Angel and ran with Party Poison and his gang. Not long after, however, she led a series of broadcasts that led to the takedown of three BLI outposts in Zone 6. She kept up broadcasts and set up her own radio channel. With this, she took a new name: Airwave Angel.

    Seven years after the Drac Center bust, Angel sat at her microphone.

    "Top o' the morning, ladies, germs, and everyone else. It's your Angel in the airwaves again. It's been a rough couple of nights out in Zone 4, with spikes in radiation and BLI patrols, so keep on your toes. Speaking of keeping on your toes, this leads me to my next announcement. I'm sorry to say I'm stepping back from broadcasts for awhile. The Killjoys need all hands on deck and we can't spare the time for a radio show. If I survive this, I'll be back. If not, it was great talking to you. I'll leave you with one more song. Here's Mad Gear and the Missile Kid's latest single. If you come to their next show, you just might see me there. Come say hi. Until then, this is Airwave Angel singing off." She switched off the mic and put the single onto the record pin. 

    "Cola would be proud." D's voice sounded behind her.

    She spun her chair around to face him in the door. "Hey. I didn't hear you come in."

    He grinned and rolled his chair further into the room. "Got the wheels oiled. Are you crashing on my couch again tonight?"

    "Maybe. Wizard Needs Food has a gig tonight, I'll be with them."

    D nodded. "Just let me know. Poison wants to talk to you, he's out in the garage."

    She stood. "Any idea why?"

    "Wouldn't tell me. I swear, that kid gets more secretive every day."

    "Who knows what goes on in his head sometimes." She walked through the station, leaving D behind. She threw open the garage door, jumped down the steps, and crossed the mostly empty garage to Poison, who sat at a desk.

    Poison's old ray gun had exploded a few years prior, melting the skin on his arm. His new gun had begun acting up as soon as he bought it. He worked on fixing it as Angel approached. It sparked at him and he swore at it as he pried off a side panel with a screwdriver.

    "Poison," Angel said. "D told me you wanted to see me." She perched on the edge of the work bench as he set the screwdriver down.

    "Yeah." His now empty hand began to drum on the surface of the table. The motion was unconscious. He had been clean for three years and sober for two; drumming his fingers gave him a mild distraction. When he got the urge to turn to the harder substances, the drugs, the alcohol, he took steps toward other distraction. His distraction was Ghoul, for a time. They'd disappear together for days at a time as Poison desperately tried to fuck his way out of addiction. This went on for months before Angel and Kobra had to step in. Kobra took his brother and Angel took Ghoul, and they put them back together.

    Poison's drumming fingers still gave her anxiety. They dragged her back to the burnt out shell of a bar where she first found Poison, crossfaded out of his mind on alcohol and god knows how many BLI pills.

    "You know that before he disappeared, Cola was training new recruits? Couple of kids from outside the Zones?" Poison asked.

    "Yeah, he told me they're pretty wild." They were orphans of the War that didn't join the Killjoys or get picked up by BLI. They raised themselves out in the wastelands, Lord Of The Flies style. The mountains were their mother and the radiation their father. Cherri Cola, arguably the gentlest of the Killjoys, had worked hard to get them under control. He almost succeeded before BLI took him.

    "They're close to going off the rails again." Poison's drumming stopped. "That's why I want you to take them. You took what Cola taught you to help get me clean-"

    "You damn near relapsed." And broke Ghoul's heart, she added to herself.

    "You got me clean." He met her gaze. "You straightened me out and I have every confidence that you'll do the same for them."

    Angel was quiet for a long moment. She looked at her feet and tugged at the ends of her hair. It fell in uneven, faded blue layers around her face. "I didn't expect to be training recruits for years. I have't even been out in the Zones lately, just parrotting reports from everyone else."

    "You came to us when you were eleven. Cola and D raised you. You know what the Zones are like. The Desert is in your blood and it doesn't matter how long you've been out of it."

    "...Thank you, Poison. I'll do my best."

    He smiled his crooked smile. "I know you will. They're gathering at Cola's in an hour to meet you. Ghoul should be there, too."

    Her breath caught in her throat. To be honest, she'd been avoiding Cola's station since he was lost. Ghoul's presence would help, but the place still looked like Cola lived there. His jacket, last she had seen, was still tossed across the back of his chair like he was going to come back for it. It was a sentimental thought that didn't apply to Cola anymore. Draculoids weren't sentimental about anything. Instead of letting her hesitation show, she nodded. "I'll be there."

    "Tell me how it went after the show tonight." He went back to his gun.

    Angel left. She pulled the dust tarp off of her motorcycle outside and rode into the next Zone. As Poison had said, Ghoul was waiting for her outside Cola's station, smoking a cigarette. He took a long drag as she approached, then crossed his tattooed arms across his chest.

    "How is my Desert Angel on this crappy morning?" he asked, blowing smoke out his nose.

    She killed the engine and pulled her dust mask down around her neck. "Not too crappy, now that I've got someone to teach. How's your arm?"

    "S'alright. Still can't aim worth a damn." The week before, Ghoul had found himself in an exterminator clap. He escaped it with a wounded shoulder. Thankfully nothing worse. "Hey," he half jokingly protested as she walked past him. "No kiss hello?"

    "I've told you, not until you ditch the smoking habit. It's like kissing an ashtray."

    He sighed, flicked the half-smoked cig to the ground, and stomped it out. "I'm working on it."

    Angel looked up at the station. It was once a house trailer. Cola never really lived there, though. Angel slept there more than he ever did. When he disappeared she started sleeping on people's couches. D's, Poison's, Jet's. Ghoul's bed. Anywhere but Cola's. She wasn't to blame for his disappearance, but after it happened, her intensity towards reporting on the zones grew. Maybe she blamed herself a little.

    The whole station listed on its cinder blocks as a crash was heard inside. There were shouts and muffled insults.

    "We should get in there before they kill each other," Angel said. Ghoul followed as she opened the door and climbed inside.

    The recruits inside were split. On one side, two young twentysomethings flanked a third, who cradled his hand in pain. On the other side, a younger recruit started to pick himself up, pinching his bleeding nose shut.

    "Jesus. Poison wasn't kidding," Angel muttered. "They're wild."

    Ghoul leaned over. "You're wilder," he said in her ear.

    She nodded and steeled herself. She walked over to the lone Killjoy and took him by the collar, hauling him to his feet. "Get up." Looking to the other three, she barked, "Line up. I want to get a good look at y-" She fell silent.

    Cola's chair had been knocked over. His jacket was on the floor. Angel picked up the chair and replaced her lost friend's jacket across the back as reverently as people used to treat country flags before the wars, when there were still countries and flags to respect.

    "I'll be level with you guys," Angel began. "In fact, let's all be honest with each other. Do any of you actually want to be here?"

    In the silence that followed, the recruits shifted uncomfortably, casting glances at each other.

    "Yeah, of course you don't," she continued. "Nobody wants to go from being trained by one of the best sharpshooters in the Desert to being trained by some kid. However, if this interferes with your training, I'll shoot you myself."

    "You're full of talk," the recruit who threw the punch scoffed. "You wouldn't even be pulling in recruits from the mountains if you weren't pressed for new blood."

    "New blood is everywhere," Angel said. "Bat City still has hundreds of potential Killjoys roaming its streets. What's your name?"

    "Cyanide Sunshine." His face would've been attractive had it not been stuck in a seemingly permanent scowl.

    She stepped closer until they would have been nearly nose to nose, had she not been several inches shorter than him. The residual scent of hallucinogenic drugs wafted from his mouth. It was a tart scent mixed with something a little more primal: fear. Not of Angel; no, BLI was getting better at controlling their junkies every day.

    "I know every dealer in the Desert, Cyanide," Angel said, "and I can make sure you never get another hit. I can make you go fully cold turkey."

    His scowl became more of a cocky grin. "You're full of shit."

    Her gaze remained steady. "Are you willing to take that risk?"

    They matched one another's gaze. While she did not appear to move, Angel's hand went to the ray gun on her hip. Their audience released a breath they hadn't realized they were holding when Cyanide looked away. A smirk tugged her lips and she turned to the rest.

    "No more using each other as punching bags," she ordered. "I need you all in one piece."

    "He was being a prick." Cyanide shrugged.

    "He cheated," the broken-nosed recruit said with a stuffy voice.

    "Boo-fucking-hoo," Angel said. "This isn't some game of tag-"

    "On me," the recruit finished. "He cheated on me and I called him out. That's all."

    Angel opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, and turned back to Cyanide. "That's fucking cold, man. Get the hell out of here. All of you. Meet back here Satuday morning, eight o'clock."


End file.
